


astronomy

by jified



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 06:46:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13475946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jified/pseuds/jified
Summary: Luthier, Delthea, and children raising children.





	astronomy

Luthier is nine when he first holds his little sister; grasps her fingers and entwines her stubby thumb with his own. Brushes her cheek with his hand, watches her eyes light up starbright and giggle starlight. 

"This is your little sister, Luthier," says Mother, faceless, even now, even nine years later and there's a hint of a curve, a curve of a smile. Nine years and Luthier can't quite make out her features and wonders if she too feels as smooth as the scrolls Luthier studies every morning, every night. 

"Take care of Delthea, alright? Luthier?" asks Mother, and she places Delthea, oh so gently, skin smoother than the pages of Luthier's book and softer than the springy grass Luthier sits on, into the cradle of Luthier's arms. 

He looks down. He looks up. 

Mother is gone, gone, gone. 

 

The worst thing about it is the hope, really. When father leaves for a pilgrimage and says take care and mother says yes but goes to the Sylvan Shrine anyway. One day passes. Two days. Three. 

"I think something is wrong," says Luthier, to the tiny baby (sister) cradled in his arms. "But our family is blessed by Mila, isn't it?"

(magic runs through their veins, thrumming, light blessings from the god above and there are galaxies in the eyes of delthea, who luthier suspects has the most potential of all.)

The worst thing about it is the hope, really, dented by the seventh and crushed on the twelfth when an adventurer returns to their tiny village and says _i'm sorry._

 

The village tries their best, but they have their own concerns, and Luthier has never been one for extroversion. He learns the theory of feeding from a quiet lady the house over, doesn't remember her name but remembers how she demonstrates holding a bottle and tipping it to the lips. 

i read this in a book once, almost says Luthier, but he doesn't. 

Cats gather on the roof of the shambling house, perched on the railings. Luthier holds a bottle of milk in one hand and recalls how the woman did it, recalls how he set out bowls of milk for the Cats until he read more and found out that most cats are lactose intolerant and then. It was leftovers from the dinner that Mother would absently fork over silver marks for. 

Luthier wonders if Delthea is lactose intolerant. Can babies even-

Delthea wails. 

"Stop," says Luthier, arms a flail and frantically waving, "No, bad, stop crying-"

When he tips the nib of the bottle at her mouth, Delthea quietens, and latches on. Her mouth, sucking furiously. oh, so that's it, thinks Luthier. Except then Delthea cries and smacks the bottle and one silver mark gone, two silver marks gone-

"Enough!" Luthier yells. Delthea cries harder, Luthier's hands a flutter, enough, enough, enough. 

No time for magic training. No time for reading. No time for history. Delthea, Delthea, Delthea. 

Sister, but he's feeding her with a bottle and sacrificing his time to care and raise, and.

Sister.

pat her on the back. rock her. coo.

Delthea's still crying. When will Father come back.

 

star sun galaxies planets earth moon black hole constellations

the speed of light is 3x10^8

the speed of sound is 330

Yet for some reason, Luthier hears Delthea more often than he sees the crescents in her eyes. 

stop crying, you

Yet for some reason, Luthier-

feces. urine. mess, mess, Mess.

One by one, Luthier takes a tissue. Soak up yellow. Stained brown. Gross. Gross. it may be disgusting, but that's parenthood.

Parenthood? No. But maybe close. 

Luthier doesn't want to be a parent. He is ten. 

 

"M-ma," Delthea says, pointing to the light in Luthier's hands. It flickers, red orange yellow white, burning bright, flicker flicker flicker and fire in his fist. Luthier is eleven and ignoring all safety precautions. tired, need practice, i.

"Yes, Delthea," Luthier nods encouragingly. One and a half years old is old enough, right? babies are able to say and understand simple words at twelve months. Right.

"Ma-gic," he says, enunciating the syllables. 

"Maj," says Delthea. Luthier purses his lips, and stares down at his sister sitting, lopsided, on the floor. Palms flat on wood. Tufts of hair on her head. Wide eyes. Too bright, like fire, like starlight. 

"Magic," says Luthier. "Ma-gic."

"Maj," Delthea repeats, and waves her stubby limbs in the air. She sits back on her calves, a bright grin adorning her face. 

don't push

"I suppose that's close enough," says Luthier. 

 

aura; light legendary tome; originally wielded by sage miloah  
the tome was discovered b

"Lu!" Delthea yells. Her hands slam down on the floor, again and again and again. "Lu! Lu!"

"Delthea," says Luthier, and puts down the scroll. Palms hit the floor again and suddenly

Light halos cascade out, bright, blinding. Galaxies interwine and planets collide, spark a supernova encompassing their tiny, insignificant house. aquila. cassiopeia. pyxis. vulpecula. Stars explode and dance, their house the sky and Delthea the moon. Mila's breath fogs the air.

Luthier blinks when it clears, to see a tiny three year old sister staring back at him, like nothing has happened, surrounded by char and heat.

black hole

Luthier swallows. 

When will Father come back. 

 

focus your energy

"Focus your energy," says Luthier. Guides Delthea's hands in front of her, laces her fingers, one by one. Delthea stares, wide eyed and blinking. Confusion across her features, the Ursa Minor in her iris. 

channel it to a singular point

"Channel it to a singular point," Luthier continues, tapping Delthea's palm. When he does it now himself, he does it on the tip of his finger, but Delthea is still learning. Still a child. 

push

"Push," he says. 

And light explodes in angels' halos from Delthea's hand. 

(luthier had taken thrice the time, thrice the effort, tears sweat almostblood tears tears tears)

When will Father

 

does not come back. 

Another year. Another year. Anotheranotheranother and Luthier is eighteen. And Delthea is misbehaving. Luthier doesn't know how it even happened, one day, Delthea was smiling, the next she wasn't, and now-

"Lu!" she calls out, her voice sweet as a sparrow's song. "Wheree areeee youuu?"

"Delthea!" Luthier squawks, bulldozing through the bushes surrounding their home. "Where were you!?"

There are leaves in Delthea's hair. Twigs, petals, grass staining her clothes. Luthier brushes her off, hand patting roughly but not too rough. Delthea groans and whines through the whole process, but Luthier just tuts at her. 

"I couldn't find you at all," he says, "I was worried, you know, young lady! I was afraid-"

Luthier chokes on that word, but Delthea is far blunter than he. 

"What, that I'd go missing like our parents?" she asks, cocks her head, raises an eyebrow. "Ugh, I can take care of myself, Lu. My magic's the best!"

Luthier opens and closes his mouth. Chooses not to comment on the first part of Delthea's words. "I assure you," he says, "Mother and Father were both masters of the art-"

"Art, scmhart," Delthea complains. "Magic _sucks_. It's sooooo boring! And only you and I can do it, so, like, it's super weird, you kno-"

"Delthea!" Luthier snaps. "Our magic is a blessing from Mila, you should be _gratefu_ -"

"Whatever! I'm totally special and stuff, who cares!" Delthea yells and stamps her foot. Luthier scowls, crossing his arms. "All the other kids in the village think it's weird, Lu. And all the adults keep looking at us weird! It sucks! No wonder you don't have any friends."

"Delthea-"

"Shut uuup!" Delthea screams, and plugs her ears with her fingers. Childish. But Delthea is a child. "Stupid Lu! Go away!"

And she runs off. 

"Delthea!" Luthier calls angrily after her. "Come back her, you- you-! We still haven't practised your magic this week!"

A far off reply. "Blah blah blah, I can't hear you!"

"Delthea!" Luthier shouts, and sighs. where did i go wrong

 

"If our magic is a blessing from Mila," Delthea spits, "then where is she now?"

The crops have withered. 

 

where did i go wrong

 

Luthier feeds the cats leftover fish from the latest shipment. They've been getting scarcer and scarcer, but even then, Luthier doesn't eat much, and Delthea seems to be able to survive on sheer willpower alone. Plus, the cats need food as well. 

"I only wish Delthea were as easy to manage as you," Luthier sighs, wistful, as he stares down at the strays. Doesn't bother trying to pat them, because he knows they'll only shy away. Vaguely reminiscent of a certain somebody, but here it doesn't hurt so much.

One of the cat meows in reply. 

"You know," Luthier changes topics abruptly, "I've always suspected Delthea to have the most potential of us all."

Cat's tail, swishes back and forth. 

"I do wish sometimes, that she used it," he continues. 

Cat's paw, raises up and down. 

"Maybe it's my fault," he says. 

andromeda in the stars


End file.
